


Long Beach Aesthetic

by Corvin



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Drinking, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Modern AU, Nostalgia, Smart Billy Hargrove, Steve is a cute drunk, and a little desperate, but if you met Billy you would be too, the author is dead bitch we're going rogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 23:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19474042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvin/pseuds/Corvin
Summary: Billy managed to get away from his dad, but doesn't have much in his future beyond working in the same place long enough to get a promotion.Steve was lonely and just looking to get lunch.





	Long Beach Aesthetic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LazyBaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyBaker/gifts).



> I write with aesthetic, not grammar and punctuation. So thank you for proof reading, Rocky. I'd make a joke about how you're my rock but eh.

Billy had been born in the wrong decade. That was the thought when he meticulously styled his mullet of curls with several spritzes of hairspray to keep his bangs just so. Obviously by the time he turned off Def Leppard and stepped outside, he’d rethought that. 

Living his life as an out bisexual would have been significantly harder during the Reagan Administration. Billy wasn’t afraid of a hard life, leaving Neil’s house hadn’t been the end of his hardships, but it was good to have one less thing to worry about. Plus he loved smartphones. 

Billy put his headphones in and started his playlist. 

Obviously when he left San Diego, he had taken whatever place he could get his hands on. He had graduated high school, saluvictorian for whatever it was worth, and didn’t bother trying to lie to himself about college. 

Tuition was a bitch, student loans were a bitch, and the idea of staying anywhere near his dad was a bitch. He’d packed up and started heading north to where Max lived with her dad. 

One night on their couch was all it took to find a job at a beachside bar and grill. He was only 18, but he was pretty as fuck with a sort of surfer aesthetic that tourists ate up. But it would be a far drive from Van Nuys. 

He could have saved up, but most of his money would have been eaten up in gas. He had no credit, so there weren’t really any options for a loan. 

It took Billy a month to get two paystubs, and then, with great despondency, Billy sold his beloved Camaro for a security deposit on a shitty 545-square-foot studio. The loss had been painful, but it did mean he was able to move into a space that was completely his own, and within walking distance of his job. 

At some point, Billy might have been able to get his car back. But slowly, his apartment filled up with furniture, he could afford a smartphone with unlimited data, and so much more. His car felt less necessary when he didn’t need to escape. 

Plus, he could get extra steps in. 

Whitesnake blasted in his earbuds as he ducked into the grill. He had been promoted from busboy to waiter, to host, and once he was 21, Benny promised to make him bartender. Only a few more months, and he would basically be assistant manager. 

There was some kind of noise to his left before his aviators were snatched off his face. 

Billy grumbled and turned his music off. “Give those back.” 

“I need them,” she said, dancing out of his reach. “Benny wants us to put up more outdoor seating.” 

“You gonna put on pants first?” Swimsuits weren’t technically part of the work uniform, but it did make sense to wear them. Billy got his best tips when he wore his red trunks with a barely buttoned shirt. Heather preferred a bikini bottom with whatever shirt she’d slept in the night before. 

“No.” 

“I need those if I’m helping on the deck,” Billy whined, exaggeratedly flinching back from the sunlight when she opened the door. 

“Hat’s on the bar,” Heather sang, disappearing outside. 

Billy raised an eyebrow at the red power ranger cap sitting mockingly next to Heather’s empty soda can. Why in the shitting hell would she even have that? 

“Hey Billy,” Benny poked his head out of the back and waved. “Heather tell you about－” 

“The deck, yeah,” Billy waved and grabbed the hat. He was going to get Heather back for this. 

Normally, half the deck was set up for dining and the other half was left open for mingling. But tourist season was in full swing, and they were in the midst of a week of theme nights. 

“Bitch,” Billy snapped, trying to make a grab for his shades for the millionth time. “I’m not wearing this garbage in front of customers.” 

“But it matches your shorts!” 

“Bitch!” He repeated despite the fact that customers were already starting to line up. If anything, they liked it when he made a scene. 

Billy finished straightening the last chair while Heather unlocked the door. The rest of the crew would be along soon; the space was small so only two of them needed to open, but foot traffic and word of mouth filled them to capacity most nights. 

When he turned around the line had made it inside except for a single guy who was staring at Billy with a horrified expression. Billy glared back at him, considering the many things that might be the problem. 

The lack of tan and shitty Tommy Bahama shirt screamed tourist. 

Then the guy lifted his chin and he noticeably relaxed. 

“Oh, okay,” he sighed, putting a hand to his chest. “Sorry man, saw the hat and wasn’t sure what the front would say.” 

Billy raised his eyebrows and took the hat off. It clicked as he looked at it. Right, red baseball caps were pretty much red flags those days. 

“Just Powers Rangers,” he waved the hat back and forth. “My shitty coworker stole my shades.” 

“Yeah, lost mine so same boat, I guess?” He tilted his head, and his fluffy hair moved impressively. “I like your hair by the way. We’re kinda twins.” 

That, Billy did have to stop himself from laughing at. There was pretty much nothing between them that was similar. 

“Here,” he tossed the hat towards the guy. Heather could choke on the sun for all he cared.

“Uh, thanks,” he put the hat on and for some reason  _ that  _ made the style more apparent to Billy. The compliment suddenly made sense. “I’m Steve.” 

“Yeah, I’ll get you a table,” Billy said. ”You meeting people here, or were you with that group?” 

Steve’s goofy little smile faded as he fiddled with the brim of the hat. “No,” he murmured. “I’m alone. Just getting a bite.” 

Definitely a story there. 

“Okay, so bar seat?” Billy wasn’t a therapist though. 

“Yeah.” Steve followed Billy inside and climbed onto a stool at the end of the bar. 

“You want something to drink?” Billy made a mental note to grab his apron. 

“Jack and coke,” Steve said, reaching for his wallet. 

“Yeah, Benny’ll get that for you,” Billy looked around for his boss. The other customers were in a booth, already chatting with Heather (who had her apron on). 

“You aren’t the bartender?” 

“Not until my next birthday,” Billy winked. Winking generally always worked in place of conversation. “Guess you’ll have to keep coming back.” 

Steve smiled again, and he pushed his wallet back into the side pocket on his shorts. Good god, he was probably from somewhere in the midwest. “Just a regular coke, then?” 

“Sure.” 

More people started coming in, so Billy had to leave Steve alone after setting down his drink to seat them. When he returned, Steve was munching on some french fries and chicken tenders. “Doin’ good, Stevie?” 

Steve’s mouth was full but he perked up when Billy addressed him and nodded enthusiastically. Christ, he looked like a chipmunk. 

Every time Billy walked by, Steve still had food and a drink in front of him. He tried to make conversation every now and then, because it was going on two hours and the guy was still sitting there alone. Mostly they talked about hair care, since Steve was from Indiana (gross) and wasn’t used to ocean weather yet.

“So, is there a reason you’re moping around here?” 

Steve stared up at him with big, wide eyes. “Moping?” He asked with french fries still in his mouth. “Whose moping?” 

“Are you gonna fuckin’ lie to me after I gave you a hat?” Billy asked with an unimpressed glare. “Lie to my face again. Go on. Do it.” 

“Alright dude, I’m sorry!” Steve leaned back when Billy leaned in. But something in his face looked decidedly vulnerable. Long Beach was a great place in Billy’s opinion, but Steve was way too baby faced to be wearing his heart on his sleeve like that. “You really want to know?” 

Billy glanced around the room; no one was waiting for him, the tables were handled, he probably had a minute. He leaned against the bar, “tell me.” 

“Okay,” Steve took a deep breath, dragging his cup towards him but not picking it up. “My girlfriend broke up with me this weekend.” 

“Ah,” Billy sucked in through his teeth sympathetically. He’d pegged Steve for a closet case, but it was plausible that he’d been wrong. “Sucks.” 

“I followed her out here. To the west coast, I mean. She goes to Stanford.” 

“Gross.” 

Steve blinked at the interjection, but it seemed once he started talking he had a lot to say. “My parents got me a place out there, and I thought even if we’re pretty far, it’s still better than as far as we were.” 

Billy wrinkled his nose. “That’s a six hour drive, dude.” 

“Not totally tubular?” Steve asked, making his eyes big again. 

“Fuck you.”

Steve smiled and looked back down. “So, yeah, it turns out I was wrong. Couldn’t make it work, and now I’m here, I don’t really know anyone, and, uh, yeah, it sucks.” 

Billy seriously hoped he wasn’t about to start crying. The last thing he needed was for Benny to think he’d made a customer cry...again. He knocked hard on the bartop to get Steve’s attention back on him. 

“Look, if you’re looking to meet people, we have an 80s Night on Saturday. It’s obnoxious, but more people’ll appreciate the,” he gestured at their hair. 

“I’m not sure” Steve bit his lip. 

“Come or don’t,” Billy said with a shrug. “But don’t take the whole dumping thing so hard, okay? Pretty boy like you’s got nothing to worry about.” 

Steve’s head jerked up before Billy’s brain caught up with his mouth. He sighed inwardly. It would be a guy fresh out of Hawkings or whatever it was called that couldn’t take a simple comment. Hoping to salvage a good tip, Billy added, “plenty of bitches in the sea.” 

He noticed one of Robin’s tables trying to get his attention, so he gave Steve one last look before wandering off. By the time he came back, Steve was gone with a $50 left next to his plate. 

Billy didn’t give Steve much thought after that except for when he stole his sunglasses back when Heather bitched him out for giving away her little cousin’s hat. He figured from the $38 tip that Steve hadn’t been offended, so it was a pretty clean break. 

80’s Night was always popular. They did it a few times a year, especially since the aesthetic was picking up from all the old nostalgia. Billy had barely been born in the 90’s, so it wasn’t his nostalgia, but he did appreciate the playlists. 

They had extra staff for the really busy nights, so Billy didn’t have much face time with the customers. 

Hence his surprise when he spotted Steve in the sea of people. He’d leaned hard into the theme of the night, though not like anyone else with their punky looks and neon colors. No, Steve looked so much like a prep from a John Hughs movie that it was physically painful.

Steve was bobbing up and down, dancing enthusiastically and seeming to delight those around him. Billy almost turned around to leave him to it, when Steve suddenly spotted him. (Going by the sudden yell and pointing.) 

“Hi!” Steve yelled over the music after successfully pushing his way through the crowd. Billy idly noted that Steve had located his Raybans after all and had his fluffy hair pushed back with them. 

“Hi,” Billy reached out to steady Steve as he came to a swaying halt. 

Steve beamed at him, “wanna dance?” 

“I’m working,” Billy said, filing the invitation away. And here he’d assumed Steve had some hetero-fragility. 

“Oh.” Steve’s smile immediately dimmed. “Right. I get it, sorry.” 

“What.” 

“I know when I’m getting the brush off, it’s fine, I’m sorry to bother you,” Steve babbled, pulling his sunglasses back down but not before he visibly sniffled. On most people, Billy would have considered it a very calculated display of being pathetic. 

Not so much with Steve. 

Which made Billy huff. “If I was brushing you off, you’d know,” he said. “Because you’d be terrified." He wouldn’t give Steve the brush off, wouldn’t mind dancing with him, drunk and goofy as he was. 

Plus those stupid, preppy, mom jeans make his package look huge. 

Billy licked his bottom lip and his tongue piece clicked on his teeth. “Look, wait right here, okay?” He waited until Steve nodded, and went to find Heather. 

He earned more than enough time off, even if it was a dick move to duck out on a theme night. Besides, Heather still hadn’t returned his aviators. 

When he found her, she was leaning over, handing out beers to a table of guys who stood absolutely no chance with her.

“Billy!” As soon as she spotted him, Heather snapped back and bounced over. She’d been sneaking drinks again. Annoying, but it made her more fun and she was in her mid-twenties so Benny generally didn’t care. “Hey, have you heard from Blue Billy?” 

If he hadn’t been about to make an exit, Billy would have argued with the nickname. There was another Billy on staff who usually worked weekend mornings and midweek evenings. On days when both Billys overlapped, they were named Red Billy and Blue Billy. 

Blue Billy argued that he wasn’t blue. Red Billy argued that it was a stupid fucking system. 

“Shut up bitch,” he said out of habit. “He went on break about five minutes ago. Also I’m clocking out.” 

“What?” Heather followed him through the crowd, past Steve who was still pouting. “You can’t clock out!” 

Billy showed her how wrong she was by clocking out at a free register. 

“What the fuck, Billy!”

“I owe the pretty boy a dance.” Steve perked up when Billy gestured towards him. 

Heather looked, then did a doubletake. “The one that looks like Ellen Degeneres?” 

Billy ignored her before she could drag him into a conversation. Steve was smiling again as Billy approached and offered his hand. “Ready?” 

Steve pushed his sunglasses up again and took Billy’s hand. They didn’t so much join the dancefloor so much as they melded into the sweaty crowd. Dancing was chaotic, as some people seemed to know real “80s dances” while others preferred the usual bouncing and grinding. 

(One legendary soul was going the Single Ladies Dance)

Steve draped his arms over Billy’s shoulders, not caring that Billy is mostly bare skin in his white and red tank, and then began bouncing. It was mostly on beat, although he couldn’t keep in one space. Billy kept a loose arm around his waist to hold him steady and mostly let Steve move how he wanted. 

It felt less like a dance and more like babysitting a drunk, but at least Steve was cute. Billy wondered what his ex found up in Stanford that made her let this one get away. 

He grinned when Steve paused long enough to look at him. “Having fun, princess?” 

“Princess?” Steve scoffed, leaning heavily on Billy. “Am I a pretty princess?” 

Billy raised his eyebrows at the heavily flirtatious tone. “Yeah, sweetheart. Gorgeous.” 

The conversation was interrupted by a few girls in bright colors and leg warmers trying to dance with them. Billy eased away to let Steve go, but Steve smiled sweetly at them and pulled Billy closer. “Thanks, but we’re spoken for!” 

The response was loud and supportive, a little overly enthusiastic in Billy’s opinion. But they were left alone again without any issues. Billy hardly ever thought of his dad anymore, but he almost wished Neil Hargrove could see him now: Dancing with a boy in front of at least a hundred people.

“I need a smoke,” he said against Steve’s ear. Steve followed him out, still holding his hand like he needed to be led. 

The deck was light with lamps and tiki torches, and a sizeable crowd of people were milling around. A couple were smoking, but Billy kept walking past them. Most people tried to talk to him when he stopped for too long, and Billy wanted to focus on Steve. 

They kept walking until the crowd thinned, and most of the light came from the cityscape and moonlight sky. Billy paused a few yards away from waves on the sand and lit up a cigarette. 

The inside of the pub was booming with sound, but noise pollution had always been a worry of Benny’s. It was impressively soundproofed, and Billy could only just make out the bass of the music from where they stood. 

Steve sighed, leaning against Billy’s shoulder. He hadn’t had another drink since being in Billy’s company, Billy wondered if he was sobering up. 

“How are your curls so perfect?” Steve murmured, playing with one of the longer locks of Billy’s hair. 

He appreciated the stroke to his ego, even though Billy was sure his hair was downright stiff from all the product. “God owed me a favor,” he said, exhaling smoke. “What’s your excuse?” 

Steve blinked slowly, looking confused. “I don’t have curls.” The Raybans looked dangerously close to falling off his head. 

“Some kinda perfect though,” Billy purred without thinking. Flirting had been his MO for a long time to get by when brute force wouldn’t work. Steve brought out that side in him. 

For his part, Steve looked flustered but hadn’t stopped smiling. 

Billy lowered his eyelashes just a little; Max had called his a sleepy look, but Billy thought he looked sexy as Hell when he practiced in the mirror. “Perfect, pretty, princess.” 

“You’re pretty,” Steve fired back before stepping away and covering his face with his hands. They did nothing to hide the fact that the red flush was spreading down his neck. “I just wanted to compliment your hair, dude,” he moaned. 

Billy stuck his cigarette back in his mouth. Maybe that had been too much. It was hard to tell with all the mixed signals Steve was throwing out. “Look᠆” 

Steve threw his arms around Billy’s shoulders again. “I didn’t expect you,” he hummed, swaying like they were dancing again. 

Billy put his hands on Steve’s hips. “You didn’t expect me to what?” 

“I didn’t expect to stop thinking about Nancy for four whole days,” Steve’s head was resting fully on Billy’s shoulder, his breath is hot on Billy’s neck. “It’s nice. You’re nice.” 

No one accused him of being nice before. Billy snorted quietly. “I didn’t expect you to get this drunk. You need me to call you a Lyft?” 

“I’m not drunk,” Steve huffed, “I’m just stupid.” 

“You’re not stupid.” 

“You don’t know me,” Steve chuckled, “I can be really fucking stupid sometimes. Hey,” he straightened up and looked in Billy’s eyes. “Do you work tomorrow? You wanna get coffee?” 

Billy blinked rapidly as his mind reeled at how Steve’s mind worked. Apparently, he’d wildly misread Steve in thinking he would dance around the subject of his (obvious) attraction to Billy. 

Steve’s eyes dropped and he bit his lip. “Or am I being stupid again?” 

“Coffee,” Billy said blandly. “You tryin’ to be buddies?”

“I mean, like a date.” 

“So a rebound,” Billy clicked his tongue. He’d never been someone’s rebound before; sort of a consequence of being a blatant asshole. It didn’t seem like fun. “Think that’d be good for you?” 

“It was a minute ago...how long am I supposed to wait?” 

“I don’t know, maybe a month or some shit.” 

“So if we’re buddies for a month, then it can be date?” Steve gave him amazing puppy dog eyes at that point. He looked so hopeful it was gross. “Coffee buddies tomorrow, my treat?” 

Billy did have the following day off, and overly eager or not, Steve was really fuckin’ pretty with good taste in hair. Even if Steve realized Billy was a jerk, and didn’t want to date him in the cold light of day, Billy could maybe score a free coffee and breakfast out of it. 

“Sure.” He jostled when Steve bounced cheerfully. “Okay, okay, I really am calling you a ride. Give me your phone.” 

“My phone?” 

“I’m not paying for you, rich boy.” 

Steve pouted, “I thought I was a princess.” 

“Either way.” Steve wasn’t cooperating, so Billy reached into his pockets until he found a cellphone. “Is your home address set?” 

“I’ll tell you if you promise to put your number in too,” Steve stopped squirming and went back to koala impersonating. 

“Alright,” Billy poked Steve’s forehead with the corner of the phone. “Unlock it.” 

Steve did, and Billy looked for a rideshare app. He found Uber already downloaded and opened it. His eyes only widened a little when he saw that Steve’s home address was in Lakewood. Jesus, his parents really were loaded if they got Steve a place there. 

He saved his number to the contact list with a hasty, dark selfie. 

“Four minutes,” Billy said, tucking the phone into Steve’s back pocket. 

“Call me sweetheart again,” Steve whined. 

“I’ll call you plenty of shit if you stop choking me.” Billy made a show of his annoyance, even though Steve was practically a waif. He forcibly pulled Steve against his chest and bared his teeth. “You gonna behave long enough to get to the street?” 

“I will, yes,” Steve got his feet underneath him, even pressed up against Billy. “Although, if you could carry me…” 

“Getting all kinds of entitled,” Billy grumbled, scooping Steve off his feet. Steve yelped, and then laughed happily with his arms around Billy’s neck. 

“You’re strong,” he cooed, petting Billy’s hair. 

“Fuck off.” 

They made it to the street just as Steve’s phone chimed, and Billy got him into the back seat without any trouble. He shut the car door with Steve pressing his face against the window, promising to text. 

Billy shook his head and watched the car drive off. Maybe Steve would actually text him, maybe not. He briefly considered going back to the grill, but he’d already abandoned his shift. 

Might as well go home and jerk off. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm as smug as any Californian, but real talk I'm from Norcal and have only been as far south as Santa Cruz. Anyone who spotted glaring errors that my hot google search action couldn't hide: I'm sorry. 
> 
> PS - yes, Blue Billy is Billy the blue ranger.


End file.
